The Master | Thomas Kreise (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
neverstops) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thoughtformed2012-02-20 08:18 pm
neverstops) wrote in thoughtformed2012-02-20 08:18 pm
Entry tags:
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Who: The Master and whoever?
When: From the 19th to the 21st
Where: The Police Station, The Hospital, Downtown NM, The Junkyard or anywhere else on the island within reason you'd like to run into him
What: The Master isn't dealing with his realities well. He's come even more unhinged than ever and he's taking it out on the island with a series of manic and seemingly unrelated crimes and murders.
Why? Because daddy didn't hug him enough (Just kidding. But seriously. Canon updated Master is violent, dangerous and unpredictable. Tag at your own risk.)
Warnings: Mentions of corpses, murder, possible violence, language, lunatic with a purpose.
Over the past few days, the Master has not been around, anywhere. Not a trace, despite his return from the Dark Hour. He hasn't been to his room since that first night, hasn't been into work, hasn't even been lurking around wherever the Tardis has most recently found itself. It's like the man has vanished without a trace.
But he hasn't been idle. Not even a little. He's completely redesigned his old screwdriver. It's an intimidating looking thing now, and oh how you do not want to be caught in this laser. The remodeled Tissue Compression Eliminator, now in convenient pocket size.
Somewhere in New Moore, a young man has gone missing. Vanished without a trace. Where is he? Why not phone the police and find out. I hear he liked to hang around police call boxes. This particular time, his corpse, now shrunken down to doll size, rests in the phone cubby of the police box, as though left by some child who grew bored of playing with it.
A similar lifeless doll is taped to the door of South 201. A young woman this time. A note is pinned beside it with nothing but a smiley face and two hearts. A present for the good Doctor.
The vandalism is less obvious. A few trash can fires downtown, a break-in robbery at an electronics surplus, and every Doctor plaque in the hospital mysteriously missing.
It's this last one that is likely to get him caught, though. Because the Master strolls in in all his uniform at the police station, all charming, harmless smiles hiding the wild look in his eyes, and gone just as soon as he appeared with the destruction or disappearance of a large percentage of the files kept within. What the hell is he doing? Weirdest resistance I've ever seen.
There is a junkyard in New Moore. A place for scraps and spare parts. No one has gone near it all week, whispers of a lunatic prowling the area, and strange sparks at night. The Master taps a four beat rhythm against an old metal trash can with his foot, leaning back against a pile of scrap metal as he twists and melds wires together and works on his latest master plan.
"Come find me, Doctor." The Master laughs to himself, grabbing up the blow torch hooked up to his makeshift power supply as he goes back to welding pieces together.
When: From the 19th to the 21st
Where: The Police Station, The Hospital, Downtown NM, The Junkyard or anywhere else on the island within reason you'd like to run into him
What: The Master isn't dealing with his realities well. He's come even more unhinged than ever and he's taking it out on the island with a series of manic and seemingly unrelated crimes and murders.
Why? Because daddy didn't hug him enough (Just kidding. But seriously. Canon updated Master is violent, dangerous and unpredictable. Tag at your own risk.)
Warnings: Mentions of corpses, murder, possible violence, language, lunatic with a purpose.
Over the past few days, the Master has not been around, anywhere. Not a trace, despite his return from the Dark Hour. He hasn't been to his room since that first night, hasn't been into work, hasn't even been lurking around wherever the Tardis has most recently found itself. It's like the man has vanished without a trace.
But he hasn't been idle. Not even a little. He's completely redesigned his old screwdriver. It's an intimidating looking thing now, and oh how you do not want to be caught in this laser. The remodeled Tissue Compression Eliminator, now in convenient pocket size.
Somewhere in New Moore, a young man has gone missing. Vanished without a trace. Where is he? Why not phone the police and find out. I hear he liked to hang around police call boxes. This particular time, his corpse, now shrunken down to doll size, rests in the phone cubby of the police box, as though left by some child who grew bored of playing with it.
A similar lifeless doll is taped to the door of South 201. A young woman this time. A note is pinned beside it with nothing but a smiley face and two hearts. A present for the good Doctor.
The vandalism is less obvious. A few trash can fires downtown, a break-in robbery at an electronics surplus, and every Doctor plaque in the hospital mysteriously missing.
It's this last one that is likely to get him caught, though. Because the Master strolls in in all his uniform at the police station, all charming, harmless smiles hiding the wild look in his eyes, and gone just as soon as he appeared with the destruction or disappearance of a large percentage of the files kept within. What the hell is he doing? Weirdest resistance I've ever seen.
There is a junkyard in New Moore. A place for scraps and spare parts. No one has gone near it all week, whispers of a lunatic prowling the area, and strange sparks at night. The Master taps a four beat rhythm against an old metal trash can with his foot, leaning back against a pile of scrap metal as he twists and melds wires together and works on his latest master plan.
"Come find me, Doctor." The Master laughs to himself, grabbing up the blow torch hooked up to his makeshift power supply as he goes back to welding pieces together.